Discovering a New
by Sparkly-elf
Summary: A statement leaves Akira bewildered, leading the eventual situation where Benitora explains without words. BenitoraxAkira


_**Author's notes: **_I've been putting this off for waaaaaaaaay too long, and just so all the readers out there know, being from Ireland, we like to spell things a little differently. Such as color, I spell it colour, it means the same, just don't get pissed m'kay? Enjoy the FILTH. It's 5 in the morning, this damn proof reading is laborious so if there's many mistakes, please accept my apologies.

And by the way, if you don't like the pairing and somehow get pissed from reading it, don't review for Christ's sake, just leave me and my mad ideas be!

To all those who are interested, yay, and enjoy.

**WARNING: **Yes, there is sex, hence the M rating and a few swear words. Bear in mind, I did warn you. Also note I haven't used a single word for any sexual organs, but feel to let your imagination wander, yus?

_**Discovering the New**_

_Isn't there anything you're good at?_

It was been a simple enough question, words laced with hateful spite and cynicism he could almost hear tearing away at the man's face, distorting it into a deep frown. Such a way with words he had, a gentle tone that could easily crumble away emotion a replace it with his own, more befitting one.

He had always been the spiteful one, and some people were so easy to control, _really_. It was ridiculous.

_He_, was ridiculous. Pathetic, sad excuse for a man, he could see the colours of his aura quickly change from a relaxed, gentle blue to a fiery red.

But this time, on good word from Yuya, he choose to ignore it. So that was his game? As if Benitora could simply _ignore_ Akira's spiteful digs at his pride. He was weak like that, and Akira found it far too easy and amusing to annoy him.

"Really, isn't there _anything_ you're good at?" There was some truth to his words. In all honesty, Akira felt that the man was just useless in all aspects of the word. No people skills, no conviction, no useful input to situations, no special gifts or talents and _Lord _his accent was annoying. Why it was Kyo choose to keep him around, Akira will never fathom.

He could feel Akari glaring at him from across the room, and Yuya looking back and fourth to both of them, silently praying for peace. Sasuke, previously sulking with his kendama in the corner, inclined his head towards the conversation. Kyo, as ever, ignored them, content with his pipe and view out into the rolling, desolate hillsides. It was raining, the roof _plink-plink-plinking_ with heavy drops. Where Bon, Hotaru and Okuni were, he didn't want to know.

The older, now very pissed off Benitora was either contemplating the question or trying to keep from bursting with anger. Usually quick to get a word in edgewise, Akira found it odd that the man was silent, and though his aura gave away his rage, his reaction to the question was not expected. He waited, albeit a little impatiently.

"There is… one thing I'm particularly good at." He said quietly, making Sasuke quirk a brow. "Well, better than _you_ would be anyway."

The aura was… suddenly difficult to read. Colours that usually foretold of emotion, now he could see the red fading away into a deep purple, then back to blue as Benitora calmed, and it was his turn to take silence. Contemplate. Purple?

"Oh really?" He said, a tell-tale hand going to his chin. "And what, pre-tell, could that possibly be?"

The aura quivered in light amusement. Like a flame almost.

"You're a little too young to understand." He said, smug for all it was worth. "I'll tell you when you're older."

Akira raised a perfect, blond brow. There was very little he didn't understand, and regardless of what age he was (if he actually knew), it made no limit to what he could comprehend. Though the man wasn't lying, he was far too easy to read and his aura told his words were true, and Akira wondered what it was. It must have been obvious to the others, Akari laughed. Yuya blushed and pushed him. Sasuke caught him sharply on the side of the head with his kendama. Kyo uttered "I don't doubt that."

He sighed. "Don't be ridiculous."

The aura quivered again, he could almost feel the thin smile from across the room accompanied by a low chuckle. "You don't even know what I mean, do you?"

Being around Benitora long enough, you come to terms with the fact that he is an unashamed and well informed pervert, so on the odds of 20 to 1, he was talking about something inappropriate. Akira's cheeks burned.

But his reaction was expected. He sighed exasperatedly. "Of course I do." Then muttering quietly, but loud enough for others to hear. "Sicko."

Auras around him still flickered gently with amusement, and he seethed. In truth, he only knew vaguely what Benitora was talking about. Vaguely. He seethed for the fact that he thought Akira was too young to understand, and for that fact that he thought himself better than Akira at… well, _anything_.

Another reason could have been simply because in part, it was true. Not only did he not fully understand the statement on a whole, he wasn't too… versed in the whole statement all together. And Benitora, obviously older and incredibly flirtatious and lascivious, had a lot more… experience.

He frowned. He hated thinking this way. It was… just awful. He couldn't think of any other way to describe it. Uncomfortable.

And in it's own way, disheartening because he was at a silent war with himself. One side want to know what it was _specifically_ that Benitora was better at then him, the other, frankly, didn't want to know.

Then a third thought about how stupid he was being, worrying himself over a simple, and obviously ludicrous declaration.

Regardless of how much he tried not to think about it, the statement carried on with him well into the night.

* * *

Okuni, Bon and Hotaru returned finally with jar upon jar of Sake (in fairness, only Bon carried, Okuni simpered and planted herself next to Kyo, Hotaru looked vaguely around the room and faded into the corner with a bottle before Bon noticed).

Akira took a bottle himself, happy to drown himself with a bit of alcohol. Yuya refused and went to bed, dragging a disgruntled Sasuke with her.

He regarded Kyo with interest as he gulped down considerable amounts, most men would make a face at the measure he could take, but not Kyo. It was mere water to him. Though through his third bottle, he could sense the tell-tale droop of eyelids, his swaying aura gave it all away.

The others of course, were much more obvious. Hotaru passed out. Bon draped a massive arm over Akari's slender shoulders, who was giggling in a decidedly high pitched fashion. Okuni didn't drink much, but was (frighteningly enough) trying to convince Akari to prove that she was really a man with visual evidence. Benitora was swaying slightly, resting against a support beam and trying to pry another bottle from Bon's hand.

Bon jerked it away, raising a hand threateningly to him, who backed off defensively and fell backwards from his sitting position, so his head was right beside Akira's knees.

His eyes swivelled upwards, regarding the blonde man lopsidedly. "Hello." He slurred, amused by his upside-down view.

If Akira had eyes, he would have rolled them. Instead he raised the rim of the bottle to his lips and took another measure, trying his best to ignore the rather flushed and tipsy man beside him still trying to catch his attention.

He silently cursed the older man for confusing him so much, and piquing his curiosity enough to let it play on his mind.

Time passed quickly, quicker than he expected, and it passed along with the Sake. Soon the bottles were gone, and he was annoyed because he only had two and he was starting to leave the wonderful warm land of drunken swagger and enter a less happy but equally swaggering tipsy. Benitora, still resting near him, was much the same, his aura swaying gently as it slowly became sober.

The others were oblivious to him, talking jovially into the night. Hotaru found himself again and woke suddenly, searching shakily for another jar and managing, by some feat of incredible physical strength to pry it from under one of Bon's legs.

He turned to Benitora, convincing himself that somehow the world would be a much happier place if he knew what it was that Benitora was better at than him.

"So," he poked the "Tiger" is the side of the head, "what exactly is it you were trying to say earlier?"

Damn the alcohol, he was never too good at holding it and his voice was slurred slightly, he could feel himself swaying on the spot.

Benitora raised a tattooed hand to his head, shielding his eyes from the candlelight. "Hmmm? Oh come on, you know what I was t-talkin' 'bout."

Akira frowned. This was going to be a long night.

A few passively silent minutes later and Okuni, Hotaru and Kyo headed off to bed. It wasn't long until Bon and Akari also left.

At some point, Benitora tried to stand, shifting oddly on his feet before shakily rising, clutching his head. Akira wasn't even going to try to get up, he was perfectly content where he was. He leaned back against the wall, listening to Benitora trying to find his legs.

He slumped back down with a grunt, swallowing slowly. "That's the end o' that then."

Akira sniffed. So many questions he wanted to ask, but, perhaps it was his pride that kept him from it. It couldn't have been brought on by the Sake, he was curious since earlier that day. At some point, he dismissed the man as an idiot and nothing else, and honestly he was just that. But there was so many things he didn't know about him, so many silly things that he hated himself for being curious about them.

And Akira hated being confused by anything or anyone. Most who brought such feelings on him usually met a gruesome end. He was sure Yuya wouldn't be too happy with him for slaughtering Benitora in the dead of night, and there were still so many unanswered questions.

He was drunk, and his body was crying out for rest. He would ask questions in the morning if need be. Attempting to stand with more grace than Benitora, he managed to pull himself upright, but his knees wobbled dangerously and the dead weight in the back of his head pulled him down. Lost in the daze, he stumbled back but was caught by a quick hand on his forearm, steadying him.

He jerked it away from the man beside him, and slumped back down wearily. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to land himself shoulder to shoulder with the equally tipsy man next to him, and was far too dizzy to get up. He blew upward from the corner of his mouth, fluttering his fringe in defeat.

"You're so annoying." Akira muttered finally.

"Hmmm… me?"

"Who else would I be talking to?"

Benitora simply grunted, not being able to think of a suitable comeback. His breathing was slow, his shoulder comfortably warm against Akira's.

Perhaps it was because Benitora wasn't expecting it, but when Akira's hands suddenly grabbed his face, he jerked back and painfully banged his head against the wall. Usually his reflexes were much better than that, Akira mused.

"Wha-"

"Quiet." Akira snapped, his palms cupping the warm cheeks.

His fingers found purchase over the smooth, sloping brow, straight and square and then traced over the edges of thin eyebrows. Usually he kept a certain level of politeness, and asked people before attempting to explore their face. But around Benitora he didn't think such formalities were needed.

"What're you-"

But Akira hushed him again, his thumbs running down the bridge of a long, straight nose. The skin wasn't soft, but smooth, calm, almost gentle but still retaining an air of masculinity. He was a little surprised, he expected blemishes, scars and…

Tracing upwards, his fingers bumped off a protrusion of material, possibly a bandana. He paused for a moment, before slipping his fingers underneath the material and sliding it off the man's head, hearing the soft mass fall to the ground and the man's small growl of annoyance. Benitora's hair, though short, was very soft, and he could feel the man trying to suppress a shiver as Akira ran his fingers through it, enjoying the feeling of the silky strands flicking back up through his curious fingers.

He found the chin, it jutted outward, pointed and defiant. It suited his personality. Moving back up, he found the thin eyes, hooded eyelids and the crinkled skin suggesting he squinted a lot. The tips of his fingers traced back around the curve of his strong cheekbones, they were higher he noted than most other people, closer to his eyes.

Benitora's ears stuck out, and Akira could feel a sneer creeping over his mouth when he traced the soft cartilage. It was about time he found something wrong, though the picture in his head looked dangerously handsome, the particular quirk with his ears was surprisingly, dare Akira think it, _cute_. He had an earring too, by the smooth feeling of it he presumed it was gold.

Something had to have been in that Sake, because the strangest feelings were bubbling up inside his chest, making him feel even more light headed from the drink. His fingers flexed down over a strong, muscled neck, thicker than his own. His thumbs travelled feather light over an Adam's apple and he could feel it bob for a second as Benitora swallowed audibly.

Benitora tried to jerk away, his hands catching onto Akira's slender wrists. "This is gettin' weird. Knock it off."

But of course, Akira's grip was strong and he clenched his fingers threateningly over the taut neck for emphasis. "I'm nearly finished. You're far too impatient."

Yes, yes there was definitely something in that Sake he mused. With a feeling of almost _anticipation_ he guided his curious fingers back upwards, cupping Benitora's smooth cheeks, clean shaven which was a nice feeling to be had against his hands and took a small breath before running his calloused thumbs over a slightly moist pair of lips.

He could feel a pair of sharp eyes widening in either shock, or fear, or both. It was probably because of Akira's expression; he smiled almost contentedly when he finally touched the mouth that gave him grief since the moment they met. The air in the room suddenly felt tense, as if poised and waiting for an attack.

"What colour is your hair?" He asked, trying to will the tension down. Though it was a stupid question to ask, he could feel the intent stare that was mere inches away from him. Another thing that annoyed Akira about Benitora was that he had such an intense stare, like his eyes were sizzling holes into his skin when he finally cracked them wide enough to actually look at people. He knew why the man squinted a lot, it was to hide his frighteningly cold gaze.

And he must have forgotten where his hands were at the time, because when Benitora finally uttered a perfectly simple word, his thumb accidentally slipped in between those smooth bow shaped lips, so it caught when Benitora's teeth closed over the accentuated D.

"Red."

Akira liked red, and his face was just that colour when he removed the digit from between his teeth. What was said was barely a whisper, and honestly Akira didn't even register it because Benitora's warm breath brushed against his hands and he just went into a daze.

He was going to kill Bon for spiking his Sake.

Usually, the personality of the person reflects on their image. If they're gentle, they have gentle features, the same applies for strong and calm and dim and so on and so fourth. But Benitora didn't seem to apply to this trait. His features could only be described as sharp, strong and curvaceous. Benitora wasn't very smart so sharp was out of the question, he wasn't strong either so that got rid of the taut features, and curvaceous usually suggested a gracefulness and an extrovert personality, and nothing about Benitora was graceful at all. Only one applied, and it was that he was usually happy, smiling for the curves of his face. But…

Benitora wasn't smiling. At all. He wasn't calm, or content, but he wasn't angry either. His expression was so difficult to read at that moment, Akira didn't understand. He looked a little sad, or pained, he couldn't tell which. The hands around his wrists tightened for a second.

It was only then that he read the aura. Again, that purple colour, but it was much deeper now, laced with streaks of an excited pink and dotted with fierce red, for anger.

Before he could contemplate it any further, he only realised a second too late as the hands left his wrists and locked in the collar of his kimono, jerking him upwards and ferociously pressing their mouths together.

Akira's hands were still on Benitora's face; his own thumb was digging painfully into his cheek, he felt almost surrounded, enveloped by that shockwave of an aura of the man pressed close, too close against him.

He breathed in harshly through his nose in utter shock, trying desperately to scoot his waist backwards to get away from the horribly nice and warm figure, but it was cut short when the lips he had been so admiring parted slightly in a lustful sigh and if anything, the grip tightened and he kissed him harder.

It was long and slow and… Lord. He felt faint when a moist tongue brushed against his lower lip, pressing past his lips and teeth and _rolling_ in the most sinful way against his own hesitant muscle.

It could have been the Sake, but he was beginning to have serious doubts about that as his heart was pounding fiercely in his throat and his brows knitted together, his hands sliding easily from the smooth skin to find purchase in the soft hair at the back of Benitora's head. It was so deep and smooth and warm it surprised him to think of who this _was_.

He tasted… well he tasted like Sake, but there was something else too. Something sharp and strangely familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Benitora broke away, teeth teasing Akira's lower lip with a gentle bite before breathing out in a deep wave. The younger man shuddered, swallowing harshly, the dizzy, drunken feeling returning so quickly if felt like someone knocked him over the head.

"Do you really wanna know what I'm better at than you?" Benitora asked darkly.

How could he go from being an idiot, to appearing so smooth, so suggestive in no time at all? Without even thinking about the question, he felt almost compelled to agree and nodded slowly, the lingering warmth still present on his lips.

He heard Benitora stand, with more grace than a few minutes ago and took Akira's forearm, urging him upwards. "Come on, then."

What was it about the sudden change in the man that made him feel so compelled to obey? Was it a curiosity, finding this new Benitora? Was a an awakened excitement once he found what was being offered to him? He didn't quite know, but he felt he would be finding out soon enough.

He was being pulled down a corridor, down away from the rest of the rooms to a more private, quieter room. The door was slid aside, and he was quickly pulled inside by a pair of rough hands on his face. Sliding the door shut, he was once more pulled into a frighteningly posessive kiss, the soft, male lips against his was a sensation he wished he could feel every moment of the day.

He was pushed roughly into a wall, the grip on his collar pulling and push at once, the tongue against his moving with such expert sort of grace, he was finding it hard to keep up, and finding it impossible to overcome it. He couldn't have fought against it even if he wanted to.

It was hard and fast and wanton, and though he knew he could have easily turned the tables on the other man, being much stronger, there was something so enticingly… _dominating_ about it that he _wanted_ to be treated in such a manner, roughly and at a pace he had no idea how to keep up with.

It was true, though Akira did have a notion of sex, regardless of the sex of the person, he wasn't very experienced or, to be quite honest, foreward with his advances. He usually kept to himself, and on those very rare occassions he chose to indulge, he never let the other take the lead. Regardless of their gender.

But when the person is far more experienced than he, he doubted he would be able to dominate in this particular position. He would challenge, simply for the hell of it, but despite how much he hated to admit, it was Benitora in control now.

Quick, surprisingly agile hands gripped his sash and untied it quickly, throwing it to the floor. He pushed the hands away and threw Benitora into the adjacent wall, his hands cupping his face and kissing him just as roughly back. He felt the smirk under his lips, letting the blonde man take control for a few seconds before sliding his hand up the front of his kimono, feeling the muscles in his stomach quiver and a breath catch in his throat. Perhaps he only realised now how much taller Benitora was than him. Two hands travelled up his sides, distracting him and he quickly lost his control, letting Benitora take the lead again.

He should have known better than to let that happen. He was walked backwards and unceremoniously thrown onto a squishy futon. Watching the curling form of that deep purple, streaky red aura flicker like the light of a candle, he heard the rustling as the man removed his obi and flung it to the floor. A pair of hands grasped his knees, parting them. And then he was pinned, hips pressed tightly against his own, a harsh mouth firmly locking against his and a coaxing and curling tongue eagerly entwining.

Nails racked up his sides to his ribs, hips shifting against his and the result was a muffled moan. His breath was coming in harsh drags through his nose, the hips against his moving only slightly, but he was so over sensitised he could feel _everything_. He pushed Benitora upwards, hastily yanking down the material confining his shoulders and both of them threw it away. He pulled another, softer shirt away, up over the other's head and turned him over, straddling his hips, his hands clutching now bare shoulders.

Hands pulled at his kimono, and Akira wasted no time in removing it. It joined the other clothes somewhere on the floor and then there was only heat, and Lord he never expected anything to feel so good. He never expected the contact of their skin to feel like jolts sizzling upwards through every vein, every artery under the area pressed against the other man.

He was roughly spun onto his back again, Benitora's fucking mouth denying him a kiss, but his now naked torso pressed so wonderfully against over-heated skin. The baring wall of a chest against his enveloped him in such heat like he'd never known. And his own skin was brurning too.

"Eager, a-aren't you?" Came the dark whisper beside his ear. Akira turned his head away, too embarrassed and too breathless to answer. His reward was an insistent rub of the hips against his, which drew fourth a bitten off cry. He pushed his own hips upwards, unashamedly wanting more of that delicious friction.

It was given, hard, and it left Akira wondering how exactly Benitora moved like that. I was like a natural shift and almost boneless _roll_ of his hips that started at his torso and ended at his shoulders. The grip tightened on his sides, the harsh, ragged sounds of Benitora's breathing beside his ear informed him that he wanted this just as much as Akira did.

For the rest of the night, there were many more things Akira discovered about Benitora, and that he _did_ have many talents. Many interesting talents.

One of them was that Benitora was very good at finding things. He found a spot just on the corner of Akira's left ear, finding that if he tongued the shell it sent the younger man into spasms of heat filled shivers. He found that Akira had a particular fondness for having his neck bitten, especially the area just under his ear, and Benitora made sure to leave as many stinging bites as possible, knowing how he could entice a passion swollen moan.

In many aspects of the statement, Akira notcied the Tiger had an attachment with using his tongue a lot. And he did, with great skill. A lot. That tongue found so many of Akira's weaknesses, his ears, his neck, his chest, around the outside of his bellybutton, the space just underneath his ribs.

Another skill Benitora had was angling his hips just _so_, that the man beneath him arched nearly completely off the futon, begging him wordlessly to continue.

Benitora had very skilful, deft hands. He liked to play rough, and Akira had no qualms with this, with the teeth scraping against his collar and those warm hands gripping him tightly, teasing in their own way at a slow, languid pace, wanting to draw it out for as long as possible.

He quickly realised that Benitora likes to hear how much the other wants it, and goes to great lenghts to entice loud, wanton cries. Be it biting, moving in such a way, or simply using his fingers in such a way he did whatever he could to force the moans out from that mouth that always seemed to throw abuse at him, now it was inviting, panting, begging for more.

He was, surprisingly enough, _graceful_. Why was he so graceful? How did he know each and every little place that, when bitten or kissed, made Akira arch desperately upwards against the hot, slickly skin? Sure, Akira knew pressure points, but how did Benitora, of all people, know just how to do this to _him_, or anyone for that matter? Was it skill? How did every roll of the man's hips push him higher towards a dizzying feeling that was welling up? Why was it that just the feeling of their skin made him sweat and gasp for air, as though it was choking him with its wonderful heat?

And why was it that the Benitora with him now, was so different from the Benitora he'd fought with every other day?

And though the pace was rough and hard, when Benitora finally pushed inside, he stilled, and Akira couldn't have been more grateful. His hands tightly gripped the strong shoulder blades, burying his head into the crook of the other man's neck. Akira refused to allow his cry of pain escape, he furrowed his brow, clenched his teeth, finding purchase by gasping into Benitora's flexed shoulder. He could feel the man trembling, trying so hard to stay still. They both shuddered, and it was all Benitora could do not to drive into the man so willingly giving himself up.

The grip in his hair loosened, and the tattooed hand previously pulling on the blond strands slid around, fingertip warm against his neck and cupped his cheek, a thumb brushing his lower lip and a warm, and gentle mouth catching the pained gasp and slurring it into a relieved sigh. There was something warm, gentle about it that relaxed him completely.

Though he did spend one solitary night with a man before, the time did not go as wonderfully as he thought it would. It was difficult, and terribly awkward.

But with this, there was almost no awkwarness in it at all, Akira was almost convinced Benitora did this every day, and as soon as he found out who that it was with they were going to get twin katanas shoved in unmentionable places. It felt… right, it felt safe, and before he could even think anything else, there was a gentle pull back, and thrust forward. He arched hard, not expecting it, and heard the most delicious of sounds escape Benitora's throat completely without his consent.

With the knowledge that the pain was slight, Benitora buried his nose in the soft blonde hair, and began a deep, slow, immensely satisfying rhythm. It wasn't long until the younger man gave in, tilting his head back, baring his neck to an eager-to-please tongue.

Akira loved the curve and flex of those powerful shoulders, the strong, muscled arms holding the other man up, muscles flexing fluidly under the skin, with an art like quality to them. Though Akira was stronger, his style was much more gentle than Benitora's, and was thinner, smaller in comparison to the hard muscle of the Tiger's body.

He couldn't see, but he could feel, Lord he could feel so much more than most others. He could feel the situation turn from something that became gentle, back to something rough once the pain subsided, back to the primal, almost animalistic urge and the need for release.

It could have only be described as something frantic. Through both of their alcohol fuled, passion swollen minds, nothing mattered but going faster, harder towards the spiralling release.

Skin was slick, sweaty, chests heaved and gasped and choked out low and appreciative moans from Akira, and deep growls from Benitora.

Benitora was a surprisingly quiet lover. Though usually vocal every other time of the day, now Akira was lucky to get so much as a hitching breath from him, which made the occasional and well earned growl all the more irresistible.

A flurry of desperate, pleading kisses enveloped Akira's neck, then was quickly replaced when the Tiger seemed to have lost the knowledge to do so and could only breathe raggedly. Akira started to meet every one of his thrusts with a lift from his own hips, and what could Benitora do but quicken his pace, causing the moans to grow at a higher pitch from the man clutching onto his back.

Benitora propped himself up on his right hand, using it for leverage, the other hand slding down the arching waist and deftly caught the other man between their hips and stroked, causing him to cry out so loud someone had to have heard them. At the time, Akira didn't care what abuse he would get in the morning, it was _damn_ worth the trouble.

His short nails tore into Benitora's skin, drawing his blood, leaving marks he was sure the man wouldn't feel so good about in the morning.

He could feel it spiralling down his back, swelling and swelling, and if possible, it became deeper and harder, the quiet, short groans beside Akira's ear pushing him further and further over that well sought after edge. Even the short, breathy whisper of his name pass the man's lips drove straight down his spine, and he was a mere few seconds away.

He struggled to form all of Benitora's name, but only managed a short and breathy "'T-Tora".

Impossibly harder, until Akira could feel white hot heat force it's way down from his stomach and shoot out through his body, fireworks exploding violently behind his eyes. He arched nearly completely off the bed, throat strangling back a scream, muscles tightening simultaneously. He could hear the hiss besie his ear.

It took two more thrusts before the body above him bucked fiercely against him, Benitora groaning his name in a way Akira would never forget. The way his breath shuddered in his ear was the same beat as the staccato beat of his heart, he wished he could listen to that sound forever.

They both collapsed with each other, panting and shaking from their release and wonderfully stated enough to never move again.

Akira knew he was going to wake up and regret this in the morning, but in the wonderful afterglow, tomorrow was hours away, and he would gladly spend those remaining hours either sleeping or just laying awake, savouring what happened and locking it away, either for another time, or to get his own back on exactly _who_ was better at sex.

_**Author's notes: **_Finally, I'm finished!! YAY! Review if you want, and thanks very much for reading!


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